


Someone New

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: From Eden [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, F/M, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sometimes takes a few days extra away from his dad to have some fun, but can't keep himself away too long on his hedonistic adventures because Sam needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone New

**Author's Note:**

> Based on "Someone New" by Hozier.

Twenty-one was great. He was still under the thumb of his father, but there was just enough rebellious son in him to have moments where he would declare he was an adult and his own man. It was always a quiet protest in ways that John never would have noticed. He’d hitch on to a hunting trip with someone other than his dad or take extended stays at strings of motels when the solo job had long been over but the pool hustling opportunity was still good. These were his vacations, his biting his thumb at his father. He felt free, but deep down he knew it would only take one phone call to make him stand up straighter, utter a _yes sir_ , and head down the road.

Finding himself at a bar sidled up on a stool next to a pretty girl was nothing new. That pretty girl having been the same girl for a couple weeks was a novelty though. She worked the bar, he worked the case, coming in night after night busted up from either the hunt or bar fights, he couldn’t remember which. The first night she let him crash in her upstairs apartment was his third night in town, and to save money there was no way he was going to argue. Her couch wasn’t long enough to hold his body stretched out, so he crashed on the floor. It was uncomfortable the first night, but the second he was invited to her bed. She had a lilt in her laugh and her skin was soft. She smelled like the beach one day and strawberries the next. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he could fall for this girl.

But he felt like that about damn near everyone who stuck with him this long. The problem was, she didn’t understand that.

It never took long for the familiar chain of events to begin. His faux bad boy ways and soft heart made him come off as a challenge. Like a damsel in distress, someone had to intervene to save him from his own wicked life, and maybe that someone could be her. He didn’t want or need to be saved, but that didn’t stop one person after another try and hurt themselves in the process. All Dean wanted was to have fun while he could, but no one could seem to understand that he wasn’t looking for a savior; he was looking for a good time.

Her friend Lynn who was on break when Dean drunkenly stumbled into the stairwell seemed to understand that just fine. Lynn smelled like apples.

At the end of the week when he was supposed to be heading home, he spouted some bullshit to John about checking out a few more leads in case it wasn’t so cut and dry as it had seemed. He heard Sam in the background asking if Dean was on his way back home. That pang of homesickness he felt when he was gone from Sam hit him hard. He’d have to head back to him soon.

That night at the bar a stranger came in exemplifying the _tall, dark, and handsome_ of old movies. He was pulling off the young Brando look he was aiming for, making up for what he wasn’t born with by wearing a tight white shirt and a leather jacket, a cigarette hanging from his lip.

This was too good to be true.

He sat next to Dean, and a wink as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray between them was all the _hello_ Dean needed. Dean ordered himself another whiskey, adding a second for his new friend. They didn’t talk while they finished the drinks in front of them and then one more, but they hadn’t needed words to fill the spaces of their busy thoughts. He smelled like whiskey and smoke.

Beth kicked Dean out of her apartment the next afternoon when he came back from the stranger’s motel room. She looked pained by him going home with someone else, and he apologized for hurting her, explaining that he had tried to tell her he was just passing through. When he carried his things to the beater he'd borrowed he couldn’t help but smile, glad to be heading back to check on Sam, wondering what kind of stranger he’d bump into next.


End file.
